Happy New Year, Robert Scorpio!
Her hair blew in the breeze as she stood waiting on the pier. The Haunted star waited in the harbor, decked out with lights for the big New Year's celebration. She wasn't sure she was up to partying tonight. She couldn't help but feel a bit sad standing there where she last held Duke. But her sadness was muted by other feelings tonight, knowing that Robin was safe, that Emma finally had her mother back. A smile crept across her face as the harbor bells tolled and she heard him approaching.
He placed an arm gently around her waist. "Penny for your thoughts."
"You're late, Scorpio," She said.
"Sorry. Business," he said. He kissed her on the cheek.
"Hmm," she murmured, still looking out at the water. "What kind of business?"
"We can talk about that later. Where are Patrick and Robin?"
"They decided to stay in and have their own celebration," she said.
"And miss ringing in the new year with dear old dad?" he said, his hands held up in surprise.
"Imagine that!" she said.
"On the bright side…"
"I now have you all to myself."
"Ha! What a prize," she said, skeptical.
"It is," he assured her with a grin. "Shall we, Ms. Devane?" He held out his arm.
"We shall," she said, taking it.
A while later aboard the Star, they sat, drinks in hand, watching all of the young people of Port Charles mingle. Anna surveyed the room, then leaned across the table and asked, "So, Robert, any news on Hornsby and who he might be connected to?"
"Not yet," he said. "But I'm expecting to hear something after the holiday.
She nodded and sat back in her chair.
He would have urged her not to worry, to just enjoy the party, but the look on her face told him that was not an option. "Anna," he said, taking her hand in his, "why didn't you just call me when this whole thing started?"
"Robert…" she shook her head. "You had more important things to do than to rush back here to clean up my mess."
He looked into her eyes. "Nothing could be more important to me than you, Robin, and Emma."
"Robert…" she said with a tilt of her head.
"Nothing, Anna." He spoke no more. He didn't need to. Everything she needed to know was written on his face, in his eyes. She sensed it in the touch of his hand.
She smiled then, though her eyes glistened as she reached out to touch his cheek.
A moment later, he cleared his throat and looked away, shifting in his chair.
They sat quietly for a while examining the crowd again. The music thumped and banged out a dance party beat. Then, as if on cue, they both turned to speak at the same time.
"Ha! You first," he said.
"This really doesn't feel like our scene anymore, does it?"
"Yours, maybe. But definitely not mine," he admitted.
"Would you mind if we—"
"I thought you'd never ask," he said, springing from his chair before she could even get the words out.
When they arrived at her house, he helped her off with her coat, admiring her feminine form as he did. He wasn't trying to look, but her beauty and strength were hard to miss in the elegant black dress that accentuated and exposed all of the right places.
He cleared his throat again. "Well, I'm sorry the evening wasn't more of a success," he said. "It's a shame that dress didn't get more stage time."
"You like it?"
There was a tense pause of several seconds before either of them spoke again.
"I'll ah… I'll call you as soon as I hear anything from my people about Hornsby, ok?" He headed toward the door. "Then you and Mac and I, we're gonna bust the S.O.B."
"Just like old times," she said, with a smile.
"Who are you calling old?" he chuckled, his hand on the door knob.
"Why don't you stay? At least until midnight. I've got a bottle of single malt that I'll never use on my own."
He laughed. She said it like an incentive. As if he really needed one.
Without further discussion, they settled in to enjoy the waning hours of 2015.
He removed his jacket and made himself comfortable on the sofa as she returned from the kitchen with cheese and crackers, fruit, and two glasses. She turned on the gas fireplace and then grabbed the bottle of scotch from the bar before sitting down next to him.
They chatted and ate and drank. She shared stories of Emma. He shared stories of his recent adventures. One of the stories about a new recruit had her laughing so hard that she fell back against the sofa laughing hysterically. It was then she realized that for the first time in a long time, she was completely relaxed. She felt happy. She felt safe. She'd almost forgotten what that was like. She smiled at him as she stretched out her legs, propping her feet up on the coffee table.
He smiled back, feeling contented, if not a bit giddy and light-headed. He wondered if that feeling were more from the scotch or the company. He had no intentions of romance when the evening began, but sitting with her now, he found her intoxicating. Her beauty, her smile, her laugh. The soft, flowery scent of her perfume. And those legs. His eyes followed them from hip to toe as she propped them up and his breath caught when he spotted them. He hadn't noticed them before – the tiny red hearts on her black stockings.
"What?" said, when she noticed him staring.
"Nice hearts?" he said, catching a piece of the stockings between his fingers.
"Oh." She laughed again. "Emma found them in my drawer when she was playing dress-up last time she was here. She asked me to wear them."
"It's a shame she didn't get to see them," he said as he rather absent-mindedly began to rub his hand along her ankle.
"Mmm. I'm sure she's having a wonderful time at her sleepover."
"I'm sure," he repeated. "Probably showing that picture of us as Mr. and Mrs. Claus to all of her little friends."
"Oh, God!" she laughed. "I hope not!"
"Why? You looked… beautiful," he said, his hand slipping farther up her calf. He felt her muscles tense.
"Robert," she said.
He thought her tone sounded a bit like a warning, but she didn't make a move to stop him. If fact, she did just the opposite. She shifted her position so that her legs were now stretched across his lap. Good God, how many times had it begun like this when they were married? Unwinding after a long day. One thing led to another. His pulse quickened a little at the thought. He knew he was treading into dangerous territory, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He wanted her. He felt strange admitting it, even to himself, but there was no point in trying to deny it. His eyes met hers as she pulled herself up to a seated position, her legs still spilling over his. Her lips were parted, almost willing him to kiss her. He tilted his head and then—she kissed him.
She kissed him softly, tenderly, catching his bottom lip gently in her teeth.
His fingers slipped under the hem of her dress, teasing their way up her thigh.
She moaned and kissed him harder, sending waves of heat and electricity searing though his entire body. Just as he thought he might explode, she stopped and stood up. For a moment he was fearful that it was over. Until she climbed on to his lap again, this time straddling him as she took control of his mouth all over again.
This was new, he thought. She'd never been the aggressor before. Or perhaps he'd never allowed it. Whatever the case, she had turned the tables on him tonight and he was loving every second of it.
She pulled back to look at him, his eyes bright with anticipation as she loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.
As she leaned back in to kiss him again, he undid the back of her dress and she trembled with pleasure when his fingertips grazed her bare flesh.
"Anna…" he whispered.
"Anna?" he said again, this time more as a question.
She knew what he was asking.
"Yes, Robert," she said again in a breathy, desirous voice.
With that, he flipped her off of his lap and onto her back and kissed her with an almost wild abandon.
It had been nearly twenty-five years since they'd last made love, yet their bodies moved together as if they'd never been apart. It was a dance they'd done before. Both partners knew the steps. And though the performance was not new, the finale, as always, deserved a standing ovation.
She lay against him wrapped in a blanket as he held her, watching the blazing fire. The still rapid rise and fall of his chest told her he was still out of breath.
"Are you all right?" she asked turning her head to look up at him.
"Never better," he said, smiling.
She smiled too. "I can't believe we just did that."
"Neither can I," he said.
Her eyes questioned him.
"I'm not complaining, Luv," he said. "I'd do it all over again, if that's what you're asking."
"Well, not immediately. But…" he laughed. "I'm not as young as I used to be."
"Ha! You said it!"
"Ha ha," he said, teasing. Then his tone turned serious. "Anna?"
"What do we do now."
"Rest," she said with a chuckle.
"You know what I mean."
"I don't know, Robert," she said. "We'll figure it out next year," she smiled.
Next year. "When did you become the jokester?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Things change," she said.
"Not everything," he said, leaning over to kiss her again.
Just then, the grandfather clock in the atrium began to chime. "Happy New Year, Anna Devane," he said as his lips brushed hers.
"Happy New Year, Robert Scorpio."